


Ice Storm

by IsabellaRomanoff



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:28:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsabellaRomanoff/pseuds/IsabellaRomanoff
Summary: When Natasha arrives to her hometown for the Christmas holidays, she can’t bear to stay alone in an ice storm with Steve Rogers. Steve is her brother’s best friend, and she had known him all her life. She lost her virginity with him. And he is the only man who she could never forgive.Despite all the reasons she knows not to trust him, she falls in love with him again in her attempt to keep the heat in the storm. No matter how irresistible she finds him, she definitely plans to resist.But everything changes in a single night.





	1. Chapter 1

Natasha’s day was getting worse every minute passing. Her boss had given her the afternoon off at the office, since no work was going to be done on the day before Christmas Eve anyway. The weather had been fine when she came out, cloudy but dry, but then the snow began and continued to get worse. At the time she arrived at her mother's house, the roads were barely drivable. She had almost rolled once and was lucky not to have finished in a ditch. The trip lasted an hour longer than usual, and when she arrived she discovered that his mother was not at home yet.  
"Just fantastic," she complained, frowning at the phone, although, obviously, her brother could not see her expression.  
“So I'm here alone trapped in the middle of an ice storm?” Natasha complained  
"Look, I'm sorry," Clint answered. “No one expected the storm to come so quick. But mom and I are trapped in the city. We are in my house now, but we’ll try to get to her house this afternoon, when the ice loosens.”  
Natasha tried not to complain anymore, since it was not Clint's fault. It was kind of him to take their mother to do the last Christmas shopping. She had grown up in this house, ten miles away from the nearest town in a small mountainous rural county.

She just wasn’t getting the Christmas spirit.

“Oh, and I'm sorry for adding distress, but ...” Clint went off unexpectedly.  
“But what?”  
“Steve is on his way home.” Natasha's spine stiffened almost painfully.  
“What?”  
"I borrowed his circular saw to work on Mom's platform and I forgot to return it, so he's picking it up.” Clint answered her.  
“Who will come looking for a saw in the middle of a storm?”  
“It wasn’t so bad when it started. He was working on a job for Stark, so the house was on his way back. Anyway, he called a few minutes ago, and he's not far away.”  
“Damn it, Clint. I don’t want to see him.”  
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you have no choice, unless you want to hide in your room and pretend you're not there.  
Clint didn’t sound remotely remorseful. In fact, it seemed like he was having a good time pissing her off.  
"This is serious to me." Natasha said, squeezing her hand in a fist.  
“I know he's not your favorite person, but it can’t be a big deal. We didn’t expect you until night, so he should have gone by the time you arrived.”  
“Is not my favorite person?” She repeated. “I can’t stand him. I still can’t bear to be around him.”  
Clint stayed silent longer than he expected. Finally, he said:  
“I didn’t realize you were still so hung up on this. You see him around almost every time you visit us.”  
“That is different. That isn’t to be stuck with him in a storm. You know what he did to me.”  
“But you've always acted like it was not the big deal, and that was many years ago. A normal teenage drama. I always thought you had overcome it.”

She swallowed, pressing a familiar pain in her chest at the thought of what she was not trying to think.  
“It was not a teenage drama. It just wasn’t.”

Steve Rogers had been his brother's best friend since elementary school. Two years younger than them, Natasha had had a foolish crush on Steve since she could remember. Finally, on the summer when he was seventeen, he started paying attention to her. It had been the best summer of her life, going out with Steve for hours every day, sharing with him the dreams and fears she had never told anyone. When the summer reached its climax. He was waiting for her in the old sauce tree of her family’s property. She was a virgin, but she had trusted him completely. He had been so sweet, gentle and passionate, and it had been better than she could have imagined. Until a couple of days later, when he had left her completely. He hadn’t broken up with her yet, he was only avoiding her until she understood the message. He never called, he never passed by, and he acted as if she didn’t exist when they met each other in the city.

Natasha had been heartbroken, but she had understood exactly what happened.  
She never meant anything to Steve, no matter how much her teenage stupidity had allowed her to believe that he really cared about her. She had been a way to spend time for him during a slow summer. Once he’d got what he wanted from her, he had passed from her without hesitation.

The memory of that summer, his laughter, the weight of his arm around her shoulders, the feel of him moving inside her so carefully, the look in his eyes when she had arrived, still had the power to make her eyes hurt and her chest pain.

Even eight years later.

"I know it hurts." Clint said, the laughter disappearing from his voice. And it seems that it hurts more than I realized. But it was over years ago. He is a really good guy.  
“A good guy wouldn’t have done that to me. I don’t understand how you expect me to forgive him.” Natasha replied, showing her rage.  
“You don’t understand, Nat. You don’t know ... " He broke off abruptly, mid-sentence.  
“Exactly, what is it that I don’t know?”  
“Nothing. This is not the time to talk about it. The point is that Steve is on his way, so keep an eye on him. Let's hope the storm passes soon, and Mom and I can go out tonight.”  
"Okey." said Nat, she said goodbye and hung up, looking out the wide panoramic window of her mother's living room. The sleet fell hard now, freezing whatever surface it touched: the trees, the grass, the embellished patio stone, the long driveway.

Steve was definitely going to be stuck here, she thought. He shouldn’t be on the roads at all. Not on this type of ice. It wouldn’t be safe for him to return to the city until the weather improved. She swallowed hard.

As if she had called him with her thoughts, she saw his familiar red van, the same one that had been driving since high school, slowly approaching the county road that ran along the far side of the large front yard.  
She had sat in the passenger seat of the truck more times than she could remember, listening to Steve talk about his plans to start a carpentry business, singing without inhibitions to the radio, kissing him for too long before he leave her at night. Steve was now one of the most successful contractors in the county, even as young as he was, but he had not given up on his old truck yet.

As she watched him, the truck began to slide, threatening to spin before Steve stabilized it. That road had been pretty bad when Natasha arrived half an hour earlier. It must have been an ice sheet now.

Steve went slowly, and he did it without further incident until he began to turn toward the long road that led to the house. With no traction, he couldn’t turn around, and the truck went out of control, almost reaching into the ditch. Natasha's breathing had caught in her throat while she watched, but let it out in a hiss when she saw that the damage wasn’t very serious. She waited, expecting to see Steve try to make a maneuver to get the truck out of the ditch, although she couldn’t imagine that he could do it effectively until the ice had disappeared. The truck didn’t move. The tires didn’t seem to be turning, although it was too far to know for sure.

She kept looking, assuming that Steve would now climb out of the truck and walk to the house. He didn’t come, however. For too long. Maybe he was hurt. Without thinking, she took her new red cashmere coat and threw it on her as she hurried out the side door. The wind was chilling with cold and the sleet hit the bare skin of her  
face like bullets. She ducked her head and tried to hurry, irrationally afraid that Steve might be hurt. It hadn’t seemed like a dangerous accident, but then, why wasn’t he getting out of the truck?

The road was so slippery that she skidded, she staggered her way down the road.  
She was moving too fast when she finally approached, and slid to the passenger side of the truck. She stopped abruptly. She slid to the passenger door and tried to open it, but her hands were almost numb, since she had been too distracted to put on gloves, and this door had always had a tendency to stick anyway. She shuddered and squeezed and snorted in frustration, trying to throw the door open but the ice had mostly covered the window, so she even couldn’t see inside very well to make sure Steve was fine. Suddenly, the door was opening, pressed from inside. She almost fell over from the unexpected impetus of the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Demanded a male voice from inside. Steve had leaned over to open the passenger door, and now he was looking at her. “You’ll break your ankle or freeze to death there.”

Natasha gasped in outrage as she tried to catch the fall by clinging to the seat of the truck. She managed to draw back to a stable position.  
“I thought you were hurt. You didn’t go out, what are you doing just sitting here?”

The sight of Steve's familiar face, his well-sculpted features, blue eyes, his beard, short hair, made her stomach twist with pain. Every time she saw him, he looked more mature and more handsome. Her instinctive attraction aggravated with the discomfort in his tone, when she had gone out of her way to help him.  
“I was talking to your brother. I didn’t even know you were home until he told me.” Steve showed his smartphone, which obviously had just hung with Clint. “Get in the truck before you catch pneumonia.”  
"I'm not going to get into the truck." she snapped. “You’ll never leave the ditch with this weather, and if you do, you will end up in the ditch later in the driveway. You'll have to leave your precious truck and walk back to the house like a sane person.” Her voice was strong from the need to be heard over the wind whipping her loose red hair and wet clothes. Her voice could have been a little louder than it had to be. Steve rolled his eyes, impatient, either because of her tone of voice or because of the situation, but he dug in the pockets of his coat and pulled out his wool and leather gloves.  
"Here," he said, pushing them toward her. “Use this. Why the hell did you leave home without gloves?”

Natasha's fingers were a scary red now and so cold she could barely feel them. But she was not going to tolerate that kind of treatment. Especially of him. Steve had made love to her and left when she was seventeen, and had not been smart or mature enough to avoid it when it happened. But she was an adult now, and he was not going to reprimand her like a silly girl. She had actually came here to the ice to help the idiot. Instead of giving him the discourteous reply that came to her lips, she said coldly:

“Since it is obvious that you don’t need my help, you can return to the house on your own or freeze to death with your truck, whatever you prefer.”

Then she slammed the passenger door shut, a movement that shook her hands with pain, and began to walk, slide, back to the house. To her horror, she was about to cry. Because she was in such a small town and he was still her brother's best friend, she still ran into Steve frequently when she came to visit her family, on average once a month. She was usually able to act as if he didn’t exist, or even respond with disinterested courtesy.

This direct confrontation, however, aside from the effort and discomfort of the snow walk, brought to the surface all of her old wound and anger. Her brother was right. She should have got over it already. Steve shouldn’t mean this much to her yet. She shouldn’t react like that for any reason. She hated him even more for making her feel so young, so helpless.

Her grandfather had been the most influential man in the county before his death last year. He had owned three lucrative car dealerships and had his hands in all aspects of local politics. Her family had founded this city generations ago. Throughout her life, people had assumed that she was a pampered princess, no matter how much she had tried to prove herself differently. She hated feeling that way, as if no one thought she was capable of conquering her own part of the world.  
Her walk on the path was unsteady and clumsy, since her little boots had absolutely no traction on the ice.

She didn’t look back to see if Steve followed her, even though she desperately wanted to. She had reached more than halfway to the house when one of her feet slipped on the ice sheet covering the pavement, and she lost her balance completely. She fell into a lanky, sprawling posture, the ice burning the skin of the palms cold as she held back. One of her ankles twisted beneath her. The only thing she could process, as irrational as she knew it was, was that this terrible mess was entirely Steve's fault. Without warning, strong hands began to lift her by the arms. Surprised and disoriented, she fought against them instinctively.

“Damn it, Natasha.” Steve gritted her teeth, leaning down again and getting a better grip on her waist so he could help her to her feet. “Why are you so tremendously stubborn?”  
He was much stronger than her, so she didn’t have the possibility to choose to  
standing. Naturally, she would have liked to remain on the frozen ground, but her teeth chattered with cold and fury as she straightened. She was about to tell him very clearly that between the two of them, he was the stubborn one, when her weight fell on her left foot. That hurt her knees very much, and she had to grab Steve's arms to keep from falling again.

“What is it?” He demanded, sounding more authoritarian than interested. “Your ankle?”  
“I'm fine. It just twisted.” She let go and forced herself to take a step. It hurt. A lot. She ignored it, however.

When the children in her class at school had laughed at her insistence that girls could climb trees, just like boys, her pride had forced her to show her courage by climbing the same tall tree where all the boys were, even though she had been trembling with fear when she had reached the highest branches. When Steve had left her that summer eight years ago, her pride had forced her to avoid anyone knowing how much he had crushed her. No doubt she had enough pride to get to the house with a twisted ankle now.

"You're being absolutely ridiculous," Steve said, falling to her side and taking her by the arm when she slid again. “You can be invincible once you get back home, but you're going to have to put up with my help until then.”

She opened her mouth with indignation and then regretted it, since the entrance of cold air hurt her throat.

"I wouldn’t be out here at all if you hadn’t been so stupid as to drive your truck into a ditch, so don’t talk to me about making a fool of myself.” He ignored her, too preoccupied with grabbing each of her wrists, turning them around and putting his big leather gloves on her hands. “I told you…” Nat started but she was interrupted.  
“I know what you told me, but I will not be blamed because you freezed.”  
She didn’t have the opportunity to let him know how absolutely absurd the idea  
of getting frozen was in the time it took them to walk from the truck to the home because she was starting to move again. Since his arm was around her waist, supporting her weight, she had no other choice to walk with him.

“Why are you wearing such ridiculous shoes?” He murmured, looking down at her high-heeled leather boots. “No wonder you suffered a sprain in an ankle.”  
“I didn’t intend to walk on the ice, remember?” She had to fight against the impulse to get away from him. She hated the feeling of his strong and slender body against hers, the feel of his arm around her waist, even through of several layers of thick cloth. It would be mean and counterproductive to move away and continue walking by herself, however, that would only prolong the torturous trip to the house. “I took the road direct from work, and I had not had time to change when you finished in the ditch.” He made a sound like a growl, but it did not take the form of words. She ignored him. 

Finally, they got to the side door of the house, and Natasha was so cold, wet and angry that only sat on the bench in the little room of the entrance, trying to remember the last time she had been so miserable.  
The warm air of the house surrounded her like a hug, but her skin was cracked, her ankle throbbed, her teeth chattered, and her hands were still asleep, despite Steve's gloves.  
Steve shook himself like a dog and then got rid of his jacket to conveniently let it fall on the tile floor. He wore mountaineer's boots, worn pants, and a gray flannel shirt under a thermal shirt. He looked robust, masculine, and so attractive that Natasha could not bear to look at him. This fact drove her a little more crazy. He frowned at her.  
“Don’t just sit down with those wet clothes. Move on.” He looked into her eyes. He had always been a little bossy, she remembered it very well since they had been together as children, but this behavior was scandalous.  
“I don’t think I've asked for advice.” She was glad that her tone sounded fresh and  
noble instead of petulant.  
“Clint would never forgive me if I let you catch pneumonia. Not to mention  
your mom. Can you imagine how she would lecture me?”  
“I'm not going to have pneumonia. Don’t be melodramatic“ She pulled her shoulder out of her jacket, and she bent to undo her pretty and impractical boots.  
“How's your ankle?” He asked, watching while she pressed on it, trying to check her status.  
“It's okay. Only crooked.” It felt like more than a sprain, but she wasn’t going to make a fuss, especially in front of Steve.  
"Come on," he said, reaching for her. “You need to warm up.”  
She didn’t object, since her teeth were still chattering. He let an arm around her again so she could lean on him while they walked. It was worse this time, now that they were not wearing thick coats. She could feel his heat, smell his familiar aroma, and feel the solid substance of his body under his clothes. He led her to the radiator in the kitchen, which was conveniently located near the kitchen table. She sat on a chair facing the pleasant heat floating, finally, she had the courage to take off Steve’s gloves. Her hands ached like hell. She had been wearing Steve's gloves, which meant that he hadn’t used any. So she wasn’t going to complain that her hands were soaring. Her hands were closer to the radiator and she tried not to shudder when the heat hit them. He sat on a chair next to her and, without speaking, took one of her hands between his, rubbing gently to restore circulation.

He worked with his hands every day, he had done it all his life, so they were rough, strong and callused. But they were soft while he massaged her frozen fingers, and she didn’t say a word. He was not even looking at her, his eyes focused down on her hands. For some reason, and not a good reason, she felt her eyes burn with tears and felt a lump in the throat. She had always thought that he was gentle beneath her sturdy exterior. That's how it went as it had seemed while growing up. He hit bullies at school and took care of the stray dogs. He had helped her with her car, with her projects sciences, and with children who did not leave her alone, long before he thought in her as something more than her friend's little sister. He had been so careful, almost tender when they had made love under that tree. He had been anxious, but he realized that she was nervous, so he had gone very slowly to make sure she will enjoy it too.

Even in recent years, she couldn’t help but see the way he silently helped people who needed it, plowing the snow on the roads for some elderly women in the church who would never be able to afford the luxury of paying, keeping Clint away from problems when he had gone through a bitter divorce two years ago and could have drunk to the daze.

Natasha just couldn’t understand how Steve was able to have a good heart. How could he massage her hands so gently, even now. And still have crushed her heart in the mud eight years ago. She had to close her eyes, because for a moment she was sure she was going to cry. It was probably only after the cold and the effort, but her heart hurt as much her body.

Steve had moved to the other hand, and her fingers were not so painful. She had stopped trembling. And now she was sitting in front of a radiator having soft thoughts about the man she was supposed to hate. She pulled her hand away from his and forced herself to stand up.

“I have to change my clothes.”

She wore an elegant suit of gray striped pants, flattering, and more expensive than  
she really could pay. The lower half of her pants were soaked.

He stood up too, and she could feel his eyes searching her face. She hoped he wouldn’t see how emotional she had been, she thought she had managed to control her expression, but he came over and gently pressed a lonely tear she had not realized had fallen from her eye.

"Natasha," he said, his voice strangely thick. His forehead came down as if he were  
trying to find something better. He was probably wondering if she was really as deplorable as she seemed, even fantasizing about a man who had left her almost a decade ago. She couldn’t bear for him to think that. She had humiliated herself enough for one day.  
"Feel like at home," she said, putting the pose of indifference that she had protected all these years. “It seems you'll have to wait here for a while.” 

She limped to her suitcase, which she had left in the hall when she arrived to find an empty house, but Steve won her by hand. He took her luggage to her room, the same room in which she had slept all her life, and he murmured a “Thank you” before closing the door in her face.

She could get out of this. Hopefully time should clear up before nightfall. She was an adult. She was a successful professional. She had gone out with many men since she had been in love with Steve back then. Staying with him for a day wasn’t the end of the world. He just didn’t mean much to her anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

“I'm sorry, we can’t go home." said Nat’s mom, her voice clearly anxious at the other end of the phone call. “You will be fine?”  
“I'll be fine mom.” While speaking, Natasha pulled her thick purple socks, maneuvering carefully one of them over the bandage that she had wrapped her ankle. “No problem. Of course that Clint and you can’t arrive tonight if the weather is still so bad.”  
“At least Steve is there. I would be very nervous if you were alone in that big house with this storm.”  
Natasha rolled her eyes but she managed not to say anything rude.  
“It's a really good boy. Did I tell you that he spent a whole Saturday helping the poor Mr. Foster to rebuild the porch after that terrible storm this summer?”  
“Yes. You told me.”  
“He has always been very attentive and generous. I don’t know why your grandfather doesn’t I liked him.  
“You know very well why Grandpa didn’t like him. His mother wasn’t married and worked in a bar, and that meant that Steve was below us.”  
There had been rumors about his mother, about her doing something more than working at the bar, but Natasha had tried not to listen to them.  
“You shouldn’t talk about your grandfather that way, especially now that he's  
dead. He was so good to us.”  
"I loved grandpa too, and I appreciate everything he did for us. But he had a  
closed mind, a critical snob, and there is no way to avoid it.”  
Natasha's father had abandoned her mother shortly after she and Clint were born. Most of the time, she held a grudge for having abandoned her family. Occasionally, however, she understood how difficult it would have been to be the son-in-law of her grandfather, who ran away from his daughter's life, in the same way that he fled from county.  
Natasha had risked herself to the exhaustion trying to make sure that her interest  
by Steve when she was a teenager was hidden from her grandfather, since he never would have approved and she would never have heard the end of that. While it was over, Steve had left her before her grandfather ever new about it.  
"I wish you wouldn’t say those things," her mother murmured, clearly in agreement. with the evaluation of Natasha but preferring not to hear it said.  
“I’m sorry. The point is that Steve is here in case there is an emergency, but I would be perfectly fine on my own. Clint and you stay safe and don’t try to go out tonight. We will still spend Christmas together.”  
Natasha let out a long sigh when the call ended. Her mother felt pretty bad. She wasn’t about to let her know how It was horrible for Natasha to spend the night here with Steve in the middle of an ice storm. At least the house was big. Six bedrooms, four bathrooms and a huge basement and a family room, her grandfather had spared no expense when he had restored the hundred-year-old house. 

She could keep distance with Steve until the morning.

She got up from the bed and checked herself in the full-length mirror. She had taken a hot shower to warm herself and get the ice out of her hair and then she had put on yoga pants and a soft green sweater that matched  
with her eyes and flattered her figure. She was smoothing her hair when she realized of what she was doing. Presuming. Making sure she looked pretty by the time she saw Steve again. Disgusted with herself, she pulled the sweater over her head and looked in her wardrobe until she found a worn and oversized football team shirt from her school, where Clint used to be. She put on his shirt instead. It was very loose in her small body. Wasn’t at all flattering. Better. Then she went to the bathroom and braided her hair into two long braids. She used her hair that way in her apartment, since the style kept her out of her way and didn’t sink into the back of her head like a ponytail did it.  
The braids and the loose sweatshirt made her look like a girl, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want Steve to think for a moment that she wanted to look pretty for him. And she didn’t want to get confused that way either. Her ankle still hurt, but she could walk better now that it was wrapped. She limped down the stairs and found Steve in the kitchen. She stood in the doorway, staring at him. He knelt on the ground, bending at a strange angle, working on one of the hinges of the cabinet  
with a screwdriver, he had gone mad with the multi tool that he always had with him.  
“What are you doing?” She demanded.  
He yanked, evidently surprised by her presence. He actually hit head with the top of the cabinet while trying to straighten up.  
“How about?”  
She didn’t appreciate his grumpy tone.  
“It seems as if you are doing something to the door of my mother's cabinet.”  
“All the hinges are loose. I was squeezing them.”  
“You have been here less than thirty minutes. Why would you feel the need to get on my mother's hinges?”  
“What else do I have to do? I was making coffee and I realized that the door of the cabinet was about to fall. So I checked the rest and they were all loose.”  
She went to the coffee pot, which he had pointed out as evidence of the  
validity of his affirmations. She poured herself a cup of coffee, as it was already done.  
“We don’t need your help with the cabinets.”  
“Well, someone had to fix them, and there's nobody. I don’t know why Clint would have left so much time.  
“They are my mother's cabinets. Not Clint’s.”  
“Do you really think your mother is going to get on her hands and knees like that and squeeze the screws?”  
She wouldn’t, obviously. Her mother had bad knees and had not done a piece of manual labor in her life. Natasha's grandfather, probably wouldn’t have allowed her, even if she had felt the disposition.  
“Do you want to stop?” Natasha felt an irrational resentment at seeing Steve work in her mother's kitchen. “You don’t have to do the work in our house.”  
He shrugged and ignored her.  
“I'm only missing two more.”  
She gave a frustrated snort as she poured cream into her coffee. She tried not to look at Steve's work. Leaning over while he gave her a great view of his muscles  
defined and a very good rear through the denim of his pants. He was absolutely exasperating. And even more so because he was so damned sexy.  
“How's your ankle?” His voice was choked because his head was basically inside one of the lower cabinets, but she heard it well.  
“It's okay. My mom says they can’t get here tonight because of the bad time, so she and Clint are staying in the city.”  
“I could have said that.” She took a deep breath to not speak sharply.  
She had promised herself during her shower that she would be as civilized as she could, but he was already testing her patience.  
“I'm surprised, that with your omnipotent predictive powers, you could not anticipate the storm and avoid getting stuck on icy roads today.”  
“It arrived faster than it was supposed.”  
That's what Clint had told her, too.  
“Well, I'll leave you to have fun with the screwdriver. I will…”  
She was interrupted when clicking noises and alarms sounded from different parts of the home. All the lights went out.  
It wasn’t dark outside yet, so she could still see around the room, but she knew very well what it was.  
“Dammit.”  
“I’m surprised that the energy lasted as long as it did with all this ice.” Steve closed the door of the previous cabinet and straightened up. His expression changed  
when his eyes rested on her for the first time. “I haven’t seen that sweatshirt for a long time.”  
She had used it during high school and college, after steal it from Clint's closet. It had always been her favorite, despite how big it was. She pushed her fists to her wrists consciously, uncomfortable with the softness from Steve's mouth.  
“Can we try to focus on the essential? We have to change the generator or it's going to get very cold here tonight.”  
He stood up.  
“Is your panel in the basement?”  
“Yes. I'm going to turn it on.”  
She found a flashlight and went to the transfer switch in the basement and she was upset because Steve was coming with her. When she connected the generator panel, nothing happened. Steve looked at her, going through the cables and connections.  
“All is well connected. I'm going to have to check the outdoor unit.”  
Steve could do all kinds of repairs at home. Carpentry, tiles, plumbing, electricity, everything that could be done with tools and hands. He had built his house from the foundation, entirely by himself. He would know how to fix the generator, if it was possible in this situation.  
“It's right next to the deck, right?” He asked as they went upstairs.  
“Yes. Next to the air conditioning crank.”  
"Compressor." he corrected automatically, which made her frown.  
Steve went to the entrance room, and Natasha followed more slowly because of her ankle. When he took his coat, she began to wear hers too.  
“Where are you going?” He demanded.  
“To check the generator. What do you think?”  
“There's no reason for you to leave too.”  
“I'm perfectly capable of ...”  
“It's a one-person job, and you have a sprained ankle and ...”  
“A twisted ankle.”  
“A sprained ankle and wet hair. Your braids would freeze and they would break.”  
She stared at him in disbelief, until she saw the corner of his mouth writhe slightly.  
He was making fun of her. Ridiculous, she wanted to smile in response to the repressed amusement in his expression. Fortunately, she was able to resist the impulse.  
"I wouldn’t risk it." he continued, giving one of her braids a small knock. “Just think how long it took your hair to grow to this length.”  
It had taken years, and the idea made her stop. She had heard stories of hair  
Frozen women when they get wet and break. She just wasn’t sure if they were urban legends or not.  
"Has anyone told you that you are a hateful imbecile?” She muttered from her  
teeth.  
“Nobody more than you.” He opened the patio door, letting in a flurry of icy air and strong sleet. “Seriously, Natasha. Unless you know how to fix a generator, you will not be able to help me there. Please stay in here.”  
“All right. As you said "please".”  
She had no desire to go back out on the ice, after her trip to the way of entry. But   
she still felt like she should go with Steve, despite that it wouldn’t be any good, just to show that she was capable of doing it.  
She waited at the patio door and watched. She didn’t have a view of the generator; she didn’t know what she was doing there. The weather was horrible, however, the longer he was away, the more worried she felt. After a few minutes, she remembered seeing a bag of melted ice in the little room in the entrance, and she realized that she had to put a little down on the cover so Steve wouldn’t slip and twist his ankle when he returned. She took the bag and then opened the sliding door. The deck was slippery like an ice rink, but very carefully sprinkled the melted ice, clinging to the wind and the snow. She saw Steve approaching in the courtyard. His head was crouched to protect his face, so he didn’t see her until he got on the deck. She was hurriedly spraying the melted ice on the last few meters  
that he would have to walk.  
“Go back inside!” He shouted as he approached her and began to push her from  
new to the house. “Are you crazy?”  
He closed the door and rubbed the ice on his face.  
“There's no reason to scream at me like that. I was trying to help.”  
“You don’t even have a coat.”  
It was true, but she didn’t make his rudeness more acceptable. Deciding to rise above him, keeping her manners, she asked coldly:  
“You were able to fix the generator?”  
“No. The battery is dead. Clint evidently has not tried to turn that thing on for months, which contradicts the goal of even having a generator.  
“We would have a spare battery at hand, don’t you think?” she had no idea, she had not lived in this house for years.  
“Probably not. We can search.”  
They walked lazily down to the basement, where the supplies were  
saved, after a brief discussion about whether she went with him, but there was no spare battery for the generator.  
“What was Clint thinking?” Steve murmured as he examined the shelves for the last time. “He should be testing that thing every month, at least. I try mine every week.”  
“I'm sure you're the model of the owner of a generator, but, could you stop complaining about Clint? It's not the end of the world.”  
She was a bit annoyed with Clint, but at least she had a legitimate reason to be. He was her brother.  
Steve had no right to complain.  
“What if you had been here alone in this storm without heating and without energy?”  
“I'm a reasonably intelligent adult. I would have fixed them.”  
“What if your mother was trapped here alone?” A kind of intense  
shudder was radiating from him, evident in his tense shoulders, his dark eyes and the mouth tight. It was strangely fascinating. Strangely attractive. And completely unreasonable.  
Natasha opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it. Her mother was basically an intelligent adult too, but she had always been a little helpless. Natasha didn’t like at all the idea of her mother being trapped in this big and old house without energy.  
She would definitely talk to Clint. But she was not going to encourage Steve to be any aggressive and more unpleasant than he was already, so she only picked up as many flashlights and battery lanterns as she could bring and started to climb the stairs. She wished that her ankle wouldn’t hurt so much that she could have done one more withdrawal admirable.  
"You should put ice on the ankle." Steve called after her.  
She took all of her self-control to contain a strong and frustrated response roar. She looked in the living room to see how much firewood was on the shelf next to the  
chimney. Only a trunk.  
She knew for sure that her mother had ordered a load of firewood every  
winter, so there would be no problem with that at least. She returned to the entrance room and put on a different coat, a large and insulated one  
that belonged to her mother. It was not nearly as elegant as her red one, but  
much more practical. Then she put on a pair of gloves and opened the garage door. The large shelf for the supply of firewood was on the other side of the garage, facing the tool shed. She approached it, opened the nylon lid, and took three logs, which was as much as she could carry. Then she went back to the house. She had almost reached the door when Steve appeared in front of her, looking at her with obvious annoyance.  
“Why didn’t you wait and let me do that?”  
“Why would I do that? I am perfectly capable of carrying a few trunks”  
He tried to take them off, but she pulled away from him, frowning as she twisted her ankle in the process.  
"Damn it, Natasha," he murmured.  
She didn’t answer, carrying the logs to the house. He grabbed a handful by himself and was carrying them while she went for more. He didn’t object to anything else, which was fine. The roof of the garage kept them out of the sleet, but it was still too cold and windy to lose the arguing time. When they had brought enough to spend the night, Steve closed the door with strength. He dropped his coat back on the floor and looked like he was going to say something.  
She spoke before he could.  
“I’m not a girl or an invalid or a spoiled princess, and I don’t like to be treated as such.”  
“I'm not treating you like any of those things. And, if you were not so ridiculously determined to act invincible so that nobody thinks you're a pampered princess, you wouldn’t refuse even the most reasonable offers of help.”  
She stiffened with a flash of hot anger.  
“I accept help when I need it and the people I trust. I don’t need help from you  
“Well, you're stuck with my help, like it or not.”  
“Which of these words do you not understand? I don’t need any help. You can  
stay here, because you can’t leave, but that doesn’t mean you have to consent that you press me in this way in my problems and give around orders to me. I'm not helpless, I live on my own all the time. And not now, nor I will never need something like a big, strong man to come and rescue me.”  
She was so furious that She shivered with that. She had managed to remove the  
coat, so she hung it on the hanger. Then she picked up Steve's coat and hung it  
as well.  
He stared at her, she could feel him watching her, as she slid out of her mother's snow boot and returned to the kitchen. As fast as it had risen, her anger subsided. Suddenly she was exhausted and defeated and ridiculously about to cry. Her ankle throbbed. Her head was beginning to hurt. She was stuck in this big house with drafts. It was getting colder and darker at times. She was going to have to think about something for dinner, and then she was going to have to sleep near the fireplace, as it would be the only hot place in the entire house.  
There would be no way to escape from Steve. Who she still wanted. It didn’t matter how deeply she knew that she never should want him again.  
She went to her bedroom, since it was the only privacy she could find. She sat on the bed and pulled on her left leg to inspect the ankle. It hurt worse now than ever. She heard a tap on the door.  
“What do you want?” She asked, more resigned than angry.  
“I have come with an peace offering.”  
There was no peace he could offer that would repair the rift between them. Both were trapped here at night, however, and it was absurd for them to continue  
fighting.  
“The door is open.”  
He opened the door and entered, carrying a bag of frozen gel in a soft blue cover that he must have found in the freezer.  
“Is that suppose to be the peace offering? It looks more like a covert order.”  
"This is not the peace offering." he said, sitting on the edge of her bed pulling her ankle in her lap. She should move away, but she didn’t have the energy.  
He began to unwrap the bandage she had wrapped after the shower.  
“This is a necessity.” He said  
She made a gesture of impatience, but that was the scope of her response. When  
he had unwrapped the bandage, gently folded the ice pack around her throbbing ankle. Then he gave her the ibuprofen and a bottle of water that he had kept in the pocket of his shirt. She took the pills. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.  
“Thank you.”  
“That was not the peace offering either.”  
She gave him a silent, inquisitive look.  
"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. “I'm sorry if I went too aggressive. When I worry, I have a bad habit of making myself in charge, but I didn’t want to break you.”  
It sounded sincere. But then it had sounded sincere when he was nineteen and he had told her that she was the sweetest and most beautiful girl he had ever known.  
She took a breath that was only a little unsteady.  
“Thank you. I'm sorry if I was too stubborn. I put myself that way when I'm doubled.”  
The corner of his mouth twisted in that irresistible way he had.  
“I know that.”  
She should be angry with him. For many things. But he seemed as if he was really trying to be nice, at least so they could pass the night, and she didn’t have the strength to fight anymore at this time anyway. He noticed that her mouth wobbled slightly, almost responding to his smile.  
He moved her foot on the bed carefully and stood up.  
“I'm going to make a bonfire in the fireplace. You must keep the ice pack on the ankle for at least ten minutes.”  
She raised her eyebrows.  
“Only if you want, of course, but I'm sure you're intelligent enough as to know what to do.”  
She snorted, half amused and half indignant. She wasn’t sure which feeling was in control.  
She stayed in bed with the ice pack on his ankle, though. She started to  
feel a little better and started to feel icy, since the radiator in the room was not turning off the cold, she put a crochet blanket over it. It got darker in the room, which made her feel sleepy. Before realizing what was happening, she had actually fallen asleep. She didn’t sleep much or very deeply because she woke up when she felt that something changed in her foot.  
Steve had come again, took the ice pack from her ankle, and was wrapping again. She blinked dazed, slightly disoriented. She was even more disoriented by the strangely soft look in his eyes.  
"It's getting cold in here." he murmured. “Do you want to come to the living room? I have the bonfire going well.”  
She nodded, since she was definitely freezing, and she managed to push up to a sitting position. He bent down to help her up.  
“You shouldn’t put weight on the ankle. I would like to carry you, but I have the  
feeling that the generous offer would be rejected.”  
“Definitely rejected.” She leaned over him a little, and couldn’t stop liking how slender, solid and warm his body was, even through his clothes.  
“You miss it.”  
His voice sounded strange, with more texture than he usually had, so she looked up to find his face. She froze at the expression in his eyes. His lips parted, and she couldn’t look away.  
It looked like heat, laughter, affection, tenderness, everything was mixed in his eyes when he looked at her.  
She wanted him. Needed him. He was what she had always wanted. She stretched towards him without any conscious thought. He tilted his head down. Then he was kissing her. And she was kissing him back. His arm around her tight waist, pressing more firmly against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck while his lips moved against hers, first gently, carefully, as if he was learning her answers. Pleasure and emotion roared in her ears as her body softened in against him. When she felt his coquettish tongue between her lips, she opened it for him anxiously. His tongue stroked the underside of each lip and then tangled with hers. He felt so good that she moaned softly and moved a hand to grab his head and keep it in place.  
His lips parted from hers briefly, but only to readjust his head.  
“Tasha”. She heard him breathe. “Tasha.”  
She moaned a response when he deepened the kiss one more time. All her body throbbed in response and the excitement tightened painfully between her legs. Then she readjusted her weight and felt a sudden jolt of pain in her ankle. She broke the kiss abruptly with a choked sound.  
“You're okey?” He asked, his embrace immediately becoming support instead of passionate.  
“Yes. Only my ankle.” Her cheeks were already red, but she blushed even more at she realizes what she had been doing. Kissing Steve Rogers. As if he were any other attractive man. As if he wasn’t the man who had so cruelly broken her heart. He should think that she was the easiest prey in the world, falling in love with him not one, but twice. The understanding hurt more than she had thought that could, but she wasn’t going to let him know. She could be an idiot, but she wasn’t weak. When she looked up again, he seemed to be leaning toward another kiss, that same hot tenderness burning in his eyes. She put a hand on his chest to push him slowly.  
“I hope the apology was the peace offering and not the kiss.” said she, satisfied that her voice was light and not very windy, as if kissing him was a fun activity, but nothing important. “Because the kiss is definitely not going to work as such.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for reading!! please leave a comment if you like it!! love you all and kudos to everyone!!


	3. chapter 3

Just for a moment, Steve looked as if she had hit him low. His expression was so inexplicable and so brief that Natasha assumed that she have imagined it. She still felt awkward and a little sick when she left her bedroom and limped to the kitchen. She couldn´t believe she had been stupid enough to kiss Steve, after everything that had happened. she must have been some kind of masochist in secret, just asking for more pain. She did her best to shake off the feeling. There was no escape, less for tonight, and somehow she had to do it through the next twelve hours.

The fire that Steve had built in the double-sided fireplace was burning kindly, heating both, the kitchen and the living room. She got up in front of it for a minute, warming up and listening to the cozy crackling sound.

"I think we should find something for dinner," Steve said, entering the kitchen to meet her. He looked perfectly normal, quiet, in fact he looked in control. Natasha desperately wanted her to be as controlled as he always was.

"Yes," she agreed. “I can´t believe it's already so late. The stove should work if there is gas. We can only light the burners manually. I'm sure that there is soup preserved in the pantry.”

Both went to investigate the large and well-stocked pantry, and Natasha delivered Steve a couple of expensive cans of meat and vegetable soup.

“Can you make it work? I can make us some sandwiches too.”  
She followed him into the kitchen with a crusty loaf of bread, and, while he worked at the burners, she opened the refrigerator. Her mother's kitchen was always stocked with food. She went almost every day to the supermarket and never bought anything cheap or on offer. She had never used a coupon in her life. So the cold cuts, cheese and condiments that Natasha met were as gourmet as it was possible to find in the rural county. It was only after Natasha had started living on her own that understood how expensive such items could be.

"The refrigerator is still cold." she said, taking her booty to the large table in the kitchen. She was practically just making conversation. “Hopefully, the energy come back before my mom loses all this food.”

“We could just move it outside.” Steve's voice was light and dry, and his attention was focused on stirring the soup pot.

Feeling the need for extra reinforcement, she approached the bar and poured herself a glass from an open bottle of red wine.

“You want a beer?” She asked over her shoulder.  
“Whatever you have there is fine.”

She also served him wine and then brought the glasses and the bottle on the table. She made the sandwiches quickly. Since the soup still wasn`t hot enough, she killed time checking the mail on her smartphone and the weather forecast.

“They say it's supposed to stop around midnight and then it would get hot in the morning, so hopefully it shouldn´t be bad for long.”

“All right.”

She felt uncomfortable and strangely shy, and she hated feeling that way, so she kept checking the email and wrote text messages to a couple of friends, while Steve brought the soup to the table in two large bowls.

“Is something happening?” He asked, nodding toward her phone.  
She shook her head.  
“Just looking at my work email.”

She placed the phone away while they ate. Her mother had taught her manners, and she had just been rude. It was a safety net anyway, and she rather prefer to be strong enough to go through this meal without an artificial security.

“How is your work?” He asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.

It was a perfectly innocuous question. The kind of informal question that anybody being nice could do it. She and Steve were not informal, and they were not innocuous either.

They were nothing.

She forced herself to lower the wave of defensive resentment and force herself to respond.

“It's okay.”  
“Your mom said you got another promotion this year.”  
“Yes, I got it.” She took a slow sip of wine, mostly to make a pause and gather her thoughts. There was no reason for it to be a problem, but it bothered her that her mother had been talking to Steve about her job-. “My philosophy is always to arrive on time and do my work without causing problems, if you're probably doing it better than most people they will eventually promote you.”  
“Don´t you think you're good at what you do?”  
“Oh sure. I think I do a decent job. But I'm not a guru of marketing or anything.”

His eyes, in the glow of the firelight, focused on her, without looking right ahead of her as he had been doing since they had entered the kitchen.  
“You enjoy it?”  
“Sure. It's like any other job. Sometimes it's good and sometimes it turns you crazy.”  
“You used to want to drive a flower shop in the city.”

She lowered the spoon she had just lifted into her mouth and stared at him.  
“Are you serious?”  
“Is not that what you wanted to do? You said you wanted to be surrounded by flowers.”  
“I was twelve years old!”  
“You said something similar when you were older.” He shrugged. “I thought you were serious.”

She swallowed hard. She couldn´t believe that Steve will remember such absurd and fortuitous detail and it bothered her too much.  
“Children are serious about a lot of silly things. This community could never support a flower shop.”  
“Many people die and get married and have anniversaries in this county and they want something more than flowers from supermarkets. With your marketing experience, I'm sure you could ...”  
“Would you stop?” She interrupted, sounding sharper than she had intended-. “I already have a good job.”  
“You like living there?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half gesture of disdain.  
“Sure. It’s just something someone ends up getting used to.”  
“You still come here a lot to visit. You miss it?”

He knew too much about her life, and he was asking too many questions. Wasn’t his business if she missed her hometown, which she did, or if she would be happier doing something different.

“Why am I the only one who gets interrogated? What about you? Didn’t you want to make furniture when you were younger?”  
She asked in a tone that implied that it was a very vague memory, but she knew very well that had been his dream for years.

He looked at her without raising his voice.  
“I make furniture.”  
“As an extra, maybe. But you can´t have a lot of extra time with all your business.”  
He just shrugged, as she had before.  
“Do you like what you do?”  
“I'm good at that, and people need a reliable contractor.”  
“I know, but it's not what I asked. Wouldn’t you rather just do carpentry?”

He had finished his sandwich, but still looked down at his empty plate. Finally, he again raised his eyes to her.  
“We all grow.”  
She understood, she understood perfectly. She had gone through the same experience. In the real world, you don´t always do what makes you happiest. You do what you must do. You adjust You get over it.  
She had held his gaze for a long time, and felt her cheeks heat up, while looking down confused and dazed, she finished her soup without speaking.

When they had washed the dishes, she picked up a flashlight and said:  
“I suppose I'll find something to read. Or something.”  
Steve nodded.  
“I'm going to check out and make sure everything is fine with the house.” It was dark as a wolf's mouth outside and it sounded horrible, but she didn’t object. He was a mature man, If he wanted to leave at this time and be an idiot, for him it was permitted.

She went to the bathroom and then decided that she could also prepare to go to bed. She changed to a pair of appropriate wool pajamas, the warmest one she had, and placed the sweatshirt over them. She found a book, poured another glass of red wine and she got an ice pack for her ankle. She was lying on the big sofa in front of the fire when Steve returned.

The ice was falling apart in small clicks as it moved.  
“How is everything?”  
“Looks good. They have lost some branches, but none of the trees. And the roof  
it holds up well.”  
“All right.”  
Since she had brought the bottle and an empty glass to the living room, she poured herself the last drink of the bottle.

She was trying to entertain herself with her book, but couldn´t concentrate and stop looking over him, her eyes sought him out. He was as deliciously masculine as ever, the shadow of his beard was even darker and his skin flushed slightly by the wind and cold. But he also looked uncomfortable in his boots and jeans.  
“You can check in Clint's old room for something to change for tonight, if you wish.He still has tons of sweatshirts and those things over there above. You can find something that fits you. You could be more comfortable.”  
He hesitated a little. Then he nodded.

She was not doing anything other than concentrating on the book when he came back ten minutes later. He was wearing an old pair of black exercise pants, only slightly too short, and a gray sweatshirt that matched the clothes she was wearing,  
also from the football team at her school, but with the one-year logo different.  
"Don´t laugh," he said. “I did not know that Clint was so small.”  
She laughed, finding the little twitch in the corner of his mouth irresistible.  
“Don't tell him or you will hurt his poor feelings.”

Clint was not particularly short, he was ten centimeters taller than her, but he was five centimeters shorter than Steve. Steve seemed different than usual. More relaxed. Less reserved As well as sexy.  
She took a painful turn in her stomach.

He sat on one end of the couch and put her feet in his lap. When she gave him a questioning look, he just said:  
“You should keep the ankle elevated.”  
This sounded quite reasonable, and she could barely push him away from one of the two chairs, which were not very comfortable to sit for long, or the window seat, which was much farther from the fireplace.

He found a book too, so they both read for a while in the light of the bonfire  
and the flashlight. Steve once in a while got up to return the ice pack to the  
freezer, tend the fire, or get another ice pack for her ankle.

After a couple of hours, Natasha had to leave her book, as she was too sleepy to concentrate on the words. It was freezing, despite the fire. The temperature should be falling still more in the house.

She got up to go to the bathroom and find flannel sheets and a thick blanket. She was on her way when she leaned on her bad ankle again. It went down, tearing her ankle further in the process. She cursed and bit her lip trying to stifle the involuntary moans of pain. It took her a minute to catch her breath and then another minute to get back on standing. She was in the middle of the room, and there was nothing but the wall to get up.

She was finally up and shuffling back to the living room with her arms full of sheets and blankets, her teeth chattering cold and her ankle throbbing brutally, when Steve appeared in front of her.

He was the last person she wanted to see. With an impatient look, he moved quickly to put an arm around her to support part of her weight. He also took the blankets from her hands.  
“What happened?”  
“Nothing.” She was cold, hurt and frustrated, and now she was ashamed “I fell bot I'm fine.”  
“Why the hell you didn’t call me to ask for help?” He demanded in a moody tone as he had been that afternoon.  
“Because I do not need help.” She squeezed the words through a jaw closed and looked at him resentfully. She should have known that he couldn´t remain without being despicable for a long time.  
“You needed my help. Now you can hardly walk and you are freezing.”

She tried desperately to keep her teeth without chattering, but couldn´t do what.  
“I've never seen anyone as stubborn as you.”  
“Have you looked in a mirror?” She replied, with what she thought was an impressive sharpness  
“If I had a sprained ankle, damned well I would let someone help me.”  
“You wouldn’t do that. You would hide until you get better. You have no right to reproach me being stubborn. Remember when you were fifteen? You did not allow the church help your mom when her basement was flooded. You insisted on doing everything by yourself. You built all your damn house for yourself, although Clint tried to help almost every weekend. You have not accepted any gift or gesture of charity in the last fifteen years. How dare you try to tell me that I am too stubborn?”

He was feeling annoyed and flushed as she lashed out, but at least he was also being proactive. He had taken her back to the sofa, helped her to spread the flannel sheet on the sofa and covered it with a blanket an the he stretched it.

And he walked out of the room, leaving her so surprised that she couldn’t even feel angry. She had never known of someone who came out so rudely in the middle of a discussion. He returned almost immediately with a bag of fresh ice. He tried to put it in her ankle, but she shook herself away as quickly as she could.

“It's too cold. She was curled up under the blanket, trying to remove her defenseless tremor. The fire helped, but not fast enough.  
“You need it.” he said softly. “Or your ankle will swell even more.”  
She knew he was right, so she didn’t argue anything else, but the ice pack make her body colder.  
He stared at her for a long time, and she didn’t understand the look in his eyes. Then he gestured with his hand.  
“Could you walk a little?”  
She did as she was told, though she had no idea why he was asking. She realized very soon when he sat on the couch next to her. Before she realize what was happening, he had reorganized them both so he held her in his arms, leaning against his chest.

It was a mistake. It was totally wrong. She was so cold, however, and his body was deliciously hot. She really liked how it felt to be sustained by him.

They had sat like this for hours on summer, talking, watching TV, just being together. 

He was rearranging the blanket over both, and the tension was so palpable that Natasha thought she might drown in it. In an attempt to break it, gently,  
She said:  
“This is just a sneaky way of sharing my blanket, since you're too lazy to get yours.”  
He laughed, soft and low. She loved how it sounded and how it felt.  
“Guilty.”

She snuggled against him and soon let him tremble.  
They were both watching the fire when Steve returned to the previous conversation.  
“The things that you call stubbornness in me aren´t really like that. It is self-sufficiency. It is important to me. And it's a different thing.”  
“Why is it so important to be self-sufficient?” It was a genuine question, that her previous anger had almost completely disappeared.

He did not answer.

She turned her body a little to look at him. His face was barely a few  
centimeters.  
“Steve?”

"I don´t know," he admitted, sounding uncomfortable and not looking her in the eye. “A way to prove my worth, I suppose.”  
“Demonstrate what you're worth, why?”

He did not respond directly this time. Instead, he said in a different tone:  
“You know how it was for my mom. This is a small town, and people are ... prejudiced”  
“People are prejudiced in cities too. They just aren´t in your face for a long time.” She exhaled. “I know people who judged your mom. My Grandpa did it, and he was ... so hard on her. But not everyone here does it. And nobody has ever judged you.”  
“They have not done it?”

His body felt more tense than it had been before. She knew he was feeling something deeply and her heart suffered for him.  
“Who is judging you? You've always been very popular at school, and everyone In the town thinks you are walking on the water now.”  
“I had a long way to climb.” The words were soft, without inflections, not bitter, just resigned.

"Steve," she said, feeling strangely urgent and emotional. She turned around so  
she was in front of him, and also practically lying on top of him. She wanted to see his face, however. “Who judges you? Who are you talking about?   
We never did. My mom, Clint or me. I swear we never did it.”  
“I know you didn’t.” His eyes were somehow strange, soft and urgent at the same time.  
“We all thought you were ... we thought you were great.” Her voice trembled at the end, since the past time was so overwhelming.

She still thought he was great, the best man she knew apart from Clint, even if he had treated her so heartlessly eight years ago.  
She still didn’t understood it. It just did not seem to fit.

“I know. You have no idea what it meant to me.” His arms were still around her and one of them clenched her delightfully. His other hand slid down her spine until he pressed against the bottom of her back.

It seemed that they were embracing, and Natasha wanted to feel even more. Her mind was a dazed tangle, she managed to regain the thread of their previous conversation.

“So if it's so important for you to be self-sufficient, why do you call my self-sufficiency stubbornness? Why can´t I be self-sufficient too?” Her voice was strangely hoarse in the last words, and it was not because she wanted to cry.

He lifted the hand that had been caressing her back and cupped her cheek with it instead.

"Because I'm here," he murmured. “Because I'm here, and I want to help you.” 

Her lips parted unconsciously in the tenderness of the words, and maybe took it as an invitation.

He turned his head down, until their lips met. He was not demanding or intrusive, just soft and almost needed. She couldn´t help but respond with feeling and all the emotion swelled inside her with the touch of his lips.

She moved enough to carry a hand that could caress his face, she loved the texture of his beard against the touch of her palm. He deepened the kiss slowly, sliding his tongue along the outline of her lips and sliding one hand down to rub the lower part of her back and then go down to the bottom. She moved with pleasure, opening her mouth to feel it more deeply and rubbing her breasts against his chest.

"Natasha," he said hoarsely, when he finally pulled away, but only to press soft kisses on the corners of her mouth. “Natasha, how's your ankle?” Laughter hit her so suddenly that she laughed helplessly against his mouth.

She smiled in one last brief kiss with his arms clenched around her.

“Although how it sounded, it wasn’t my intention to change the subject. I just wanted to say that I don´t want you to do anything that hurts your ankle.”  
“My ankle is very involved in this process.”With a snort of amusement, he turned them both for her to be on her back and he was on top of her.  
“All right. He leaned down in another kiss.”

Natasha moved beneath him as their embrace intensified, and, when she was able to released one of her legs, she wrapped it around his hip, needing to feel  
his body hard against the delicious pain between her legs. She heard him make a low raspy noise in his throat, and he pulled away from her mouth to bury his face in the hollow of her neck.

"Natasha," he murmured, pronouncing the throbbing pulse in his throat. “Nat,  
If you're going to stop, please let me know now.”

Her head was spinning and her body throbbed and Steve was the only thing in the world that she wanted.

She knew it was wrong. That it was silly. And it would make everything much more difficult. But right now she couldn´t avoid the temptation. She adjusted until she found the bulge in his groin and rubbed against it shamelessly.

“I'm not going to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for long time not posting!!! i hope you like it!! if you do, please leave a comen!! kurdos for everyone!!


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha was still wearing all her clothes, but she couldn’t remember having  
been so exited ever in her life. She had been completely exited when she and Steve had sex for the first time, responding easily to his touches and kisses, but also she had been very inexperienced and had been nervous, the two things distracted her a little of the pure enjoyment of their physical responses. She had never felt this way, as if right now she couldn’t have Steve, in reality she would beg for him.

He seemed to feel the same, since his mouth and his hands became immediately more demanding. He loved how strong he was, how much she could feel the tension in his slender body. She twisted against him, searching for stimulation where she could. With a hoarse gasp, he broke the kiss and moved his body slightly towards the her.

"Wait a second," he said hoarsely.  
She made a sound of impatience  
“I don’t want to wait a second.”  
He moaned almost helplessly as she rubbed against him.  
“Me neither. But we need a condom, right?”  
She cursed softly and controlled herself enough to relax her body and lower the leg with which she had surrounded him.  
“Yes. It will be the best.”  
“I don’t have any with me. Is there some in the house?”

She doubted it, since Clint didn’t live here, unless he had hidden some in a dark corner during high school. She likes men like Steve, who doesn’t normally carry condoms, which seemed to indicate that he didn’t have the habit of having sex in the blink of an eye. Also, his lack of preparation didn’t matter since she had it covered.

“I have one in my bag. In the room of the entrance.”

With her ankle hurt, and being really excited, she didn’t want to leave the comfortable sofa by the fire, so she was relieved when Steve moved carefully away from her and got up. She however chuckled when she saw him move rigidly. He gave her an offended look.

“Self-sufficiency, remember?” He teased. “You have to go find your own  
condom.”

He laughed in a choked voice as he disappeared into the kitchen, which connected with the little room at the entrance, and he kept smiling when he came back a few seconds later. He handed her the black designer bag, and found a package of cardboard with condoms in the side pocket.

“Do you always carry condoms on top?” Steve ask.

She felt that she was blushing, although she was sure he could not realize because she was already red with fire and excitement.

"A woman is always ready," she said prudishly.

Not once she had used a condom she had with her, but Steve didn’t have to know that.

“An great philosophy.”

She leaned down to put her purse on the table before she changed her position for Steve. He sat back on the couch and pulled her into his arms one more time, rolling on his back so he would be on top of her again.

"Damn it, Natasha," he said hoarsely, his lips barely above hers “I want you so much.”

His tone of voice and his words made her chest ache. Her pulse was fluttering, she tried to keep the jokes, since she felt much more secure than with the intensity that was growing.

“I already know that. Your pants don’t hide much, you know.”

He was giving her small kisses by pressing his mouth on her lips, in the commissure of her lips and cheeks. But he laughed at her words, making his breath slide against her skin.

“Unfortunately, I know it very well.”

“But the good thing is that it does not make sense to hide something so impressive.” 

He grunted in response. She was happy with his reaction, and the idea of having such a strong power to control the man. He closed his eyes, but she tried to notice what he seemed to like most, which caused his breathing to increase or his body to shake.  
Finally, he opened his eyes.  
He readjusted himself above her, and she laughed, then pulled her sweatshirt over her head.  
He frowned at the long-sleeved wool T-shirt she wore underneath.  
“Are you ready enough for my ...?”  
“Yes. I really could not cool down anymore.”

She helped him to take off her shirt and laughed with delight at the offended expression of him to see that she was wearing a knit shirt underneath.

“How many shirts do you wear?”  
"It was freezing" she explained. Laughter made her relax and made her less  
aware of the importance of what was happening. However, she stayed  
breathlessly as he took off her last shirt and stared with eagerness towards her naked breasts.

“You are so Beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss her, cupping a breast in his rough  
hand. His mouth went down her neck and then down, until he took a nipple in his mouth.

She arched as he stroked her with his tongue, sensations so intense that they surprised her. He caressed her until she almost writhed, her hips moving restlessly,  
trying to look for some kind of relief for the pulse of desire.

"Steve," she shouted. “This is becoming torture.” She pulled on his shoulders,  
trying to lift his head from her breasts.

He was smiling, almost predatory, when he lifted his head to look at her with passion. He stuck out his tongue, as he had done when he was six years old and he and Clint didn’t let her play with them. His shoulders shook with laughter, but he leaned down to kiss her hard.

"You should not tempt me like that," he said over her mouth. “Especially when you're using those braids.”

She gave a heavy sigh, broke the kiss and brought her hand to one of the long braids.

“Shit. I forgot I had these stupid things.”

She removed the hair leagues and began to unroll the hair. Steve laughed again.

“I don’t care…”  
“I'm not going to have sex with my hair with braids.” she managed to undo the  
braids, while Steve took advantage of the time to take off his sweatshirt and a  
shirt.

The last time she had seen his bare chest was nineteen. Had been impressive then, but now it was even better.

"You're beautiful," he said, looking at her with sweet eyes as she combed her hair.  
fingers. With braids or without them.

She felt a little bit like she was boiling, so she searched desperately an ingenious answer. Any type of response that could distract her from the look in his eyes.

She couldn’t think of anything.

So, when Steve kissed her again, sliding his hand under her waistband of the pajama pants, she felt too idiot and stupid. She moaned in his mouth when his fingers explored between her legs.

“Are you ready?” He asked hoarsely, giving her a couple of soft kisses.  
“Yes.” She arched upward in pleasure and impatience. “Please.”

He reached out to take the condom while she removed her pants and her underwear, then she helped him with his.

"Fuck," he whispered as she caressed him gently. “You're going to kill me.”

“Definitively I'll kill you if you don’t hurry.”

He put on the condom and placed himself between her legs. The fireplace was radiating an intense heat that she felt passionately on her bare skin. To her surprise, when she felt the gentle thrust in her entrance, Steve bowed to kiss her again. She replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, and then arching instinctively when she felt his hard length begin to enter her. He readjusted a couple of times as he slipped inside her. She could feel him in a way so deeply that she couldn’t concentrate on the kiss, she jerked her head to one side and gasped.

“You're good?” He asked, his voice sounding as tight as she felt.  
“Yes. I’m good. Very good.” She moved her hips, feeling every inch of the penetration, and moaned with so much pleasure that all her nervousness became shatter with the sensations.  
When she began to pump her hips towards him, he responded by beginning to  
Push. The previous game between them had been light and playful, so she was surprised that sex was not being any of those things. His movements were initially stable and pleasant. They moved together like this, falling into a rhythm remembered for a long time. Natasha bent her legs around his hips to get greater advantage, although it was limited due to persistent pain in her ankle. He leaned down and kissed her from time to time, as if he were not able to contain himself. She couldn’t recover. Every part of her was out of control. Her heart accelerated wildly, her lungs gasping for air, her eyes blurry once in a while since she couldn’t look away from Steve’s burning and hungry look. Everything felt so good, so right, so pleasant that she couldn’t stop moaning and whisper silly sounds.

"Steve," she gasped, leaning against the sofa with a jolt of pleasure that surprised her.

She fell into an urgent and clumsy movement and grabbed onto the back of his shoulders.

"Nat," he growled in response, his thrust intensifying with hers. Then he kept gasping in time with his rhythm, so all this was so much better.

She bit her lip hard as she felt the orgasm intensify. Then she let out her breath, gasped her name, her body was trembling unable to do anything with the waves of intense pleasure. Steve made a choked sound and remained completely still as he tried to endure the tremors of his orgasm. Her entrance tightened on him, and finally he released his tension. He relaxed in a series of quick and clumsy punches.

They both collapsed together, their bodies hot, satiated and tangled in the  
sofa. She could still hear her name in his breath, and she wanted to hear him say it always in that way.

His elbows flexed, and he gently dropped his weight on hers, burying his face in the hollow of her neck for a few moments. She hugged him tightly, experiencing a wave of ridiculous pride for giving him this, and to have made him feel so much. He raised his head and looked towards her.

“You're good?”

She nodded, her throat hurting strangely.

“It was really good.”

“Good doesn’t even describe it.”

It hasn’t been wild, dirty or creative in particular, but it had been more than that, better than that. The best sex of her life. She shifted uncomfortably under his weight, trying to ignore some anxiety increase.

“You should be careful with the condom.”

He got up reluctantly and left her entrance, taking care with the condom. She had a cold feeling again, now that she wasn’t pressed against Steve's hot body, she bent down to put on her pajamas again. Natasha was passing the shirt over her head when Steve returned.

She couldn’t stop looking lustfully at his naked body, his long side, his strong muscles and his abdomen plane. He put on his pants again, but not his shirt or sweatshirt, added more fuel to the fire, and returned to sit on the sofa next to her. He took her in his arms while she covered them both with the blanket. She snuggled against him. In the morning, she was going to have to deal with reality, but she couldn’t bear to think about it that night. Not when everything felt so good, so right, as much as at home.

"Natasha," he murmured, stroking her hair.  
“Hmm.” Her eyes were closed. The fire was hot and Steve was hot, and she was hot again too.

“Nat”  
“Hmm.”

He didn’t say anything else. Maybe he had decided that she was almost asleep and that the conversation was more or less useless.  
Then she fell asleep. So she wouldn’t have heard if he had said something else.

 

 

 

 

 

**************************

 

 

 

 

 

Natasha woke up a few hours later, feeling deliciously warm and a little tight. She blinked, trying to orient herself. The room was dark except for the firelight, which had faded a little.  
Steve must have spent some time, while she slept, keeping the fire going and add another trunk, or it would have gone off much earlier.  
Now Steve was at her side on the couch. Or, more accurately, he was behind her.  
She was lying on her side, facing the fire, and he was caressing her, his arms were around her, hugging her against him.

She moved a little and heard him clear his throat. She looked over his shoulder to see that he had his eyes open.

“Hey.” She didn’t know what else to say.

It was still dark outside, although it sounded as if the ice had stop. There were still a few hours left until dawn.

She shouldn’t have woken up in the real world yet.

"Hey" he said, joy in his voice. “How's your ankle?”  
“It's okay.” It was still hurting, but not as much as before. She moved it to check it and discovered that she could move a little better. She sighed and snuggled back more comfortably against his warmth.

“Was that an invitation?” He asked hoarsely.  
"Not really," she admitted. “I'm quite comfortable I'm not sure I want to take my clothes off again.”

It was the truth. She felt warm and comfortable, and not very enthusiastic about taking off her Pj’s. She rolled on her back, turning on her own until she was lying on him. He helped her lower her head so he could kiss her.

“I'm sure we can avoid taking off your pajamas if we have to.”

She laughed and returned the kiss, sliding her fingers through his thick hair. They kissed for a long time, unhurriedly, in a way that revived Natasha’s libido, although without the intensity of excitement she had experienced before. Her body buzzed pleasantly but she did not feel particularly urgent or needy. 

“I still did not want to undress again.”

She caressed his cheek while they kissed, enjoying the creaking sound and  
the feel of his beard against her skin, when she felt that he was rocking his  
pelvis up against her. He was much more gone than she was.

The knowledge of this gave her another kind of sensation. She felt inspired, moved away from his mouth and kissed down on his bare chest. She liked his slender muscles and the light hair he had and the way that his flat belly moved while he sweated. When she reached the fabric, she hooked her fingers around the waistband and pulled his pants down, carefully maneuvering the prominent obstacle.

"I thought you didn’t want to take off your clothes," he said, the same smile still in his voice despite how husky it was.

“I'm not thinking about taking my clothes off.”

He shook, by surprise or pleasure, or by both.

"Natasha," he whispered, leaning toward her and burying his fingers in her hair.  
messy.

She smiled, feeling strangely content and possessive

He stifled a moan, tightening his hands in her hair.

After a few minutes, she felt that his breathing had returned to the  
normal, and one of his hands began to caress her back and her lower part.

“You're good?” He asked when he loosened his arms.  
“I'm fine.”

He didn’t stop kissing her. And each kiss felt like a embrace.  
"You're so amazing, Natasha," he murmured between kisses. “So sweet, so beautiful, so generous, so brave.”

Emotion overwhelmed her, more powerfully than her physical release. She was so eager to hear those words. So much desire to believe in them. But they were dangerous. Even before dawn, this was dangerous. She snorted in an attempt to distract herself.

“Brave? Despite your impressive attributes, it didn’t cost much to me to do…”

He silenced her with another kiss, this time longer, persistent and impressive.

“You are the bravest person I've ever met, Natasha. You always have been.”

She didn’t understand why he thought that. She didn’t know why he seemed to believe it.

She didn’t understand any of this, and she desperately wanted this not to end. If she spent more time, however, she would never recover. 

Trying to find a commitment to herself, ending the really dangerous part, but not ending the night completely, she cuddled herself in his arms, bending her head so that he couldn’t give her one more kiss.

“Okay. After the effort of bravery, I am tired again.” Natasha said, so Steve reached down and pulled the blanket over them both. 

She felt him kiss her hair, and he didn’t say anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long for an update!! I'm in school again so I have been really bussy! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language!
> 
> If you like the story please leave a comment and kudos! Thanks everyone for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha woke up by a sudden chorus of clicks and beeps.  
The electricity had returned.  
She blinked several times, trying to orient herself in the living room, which was  
illuminated by the rays of the outgoing sun that passed through the window and through the lamp, that had been left in the middle of the room.  
She was still on the couch. She was curled in the curve of Steve's body. His arm still surrounded her.  
Even though her ankle still hurt her, her mind was a little fuzzy and her arm had lost circulation because it was trapped under Steve´s body, she felt like home being there, under him, she didn´t want to move. 

She felt Steve move behind her and knew he was awake too.

"Good morning," he said, his voice thick with sleep. He sniffed her neck,  
strangely intimate. “How are you feeling?”

“I´m all right.” She forced her arm out and sat down. She really needed to clear her head-. “My ankle is still sore, but I'm sure it will be fine.”

She felt as he watched her stretching and blinking, that made her feel  
nervous. What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was she thinking? How could she had done that to herself again? She was no longer seventeen, but evidently she was just as stupid with her heart.

“I think we should get up.” she said at the end, since someone should say  
something-. “If the road is warmed again like they predicted, the mom and Clint should be on the way now.”  
She almost drowned with the idea of her mother and her brother finding her like that with Steve, knowing what she had done the night before. That gave her enough incentive to get up. She staggered a bit, feeling her ankle weaker than she expected. Steve got up immediately, but she was stable again when he put  
his arm around her to give her support.

“I'm fine.” She tried not to move away from his touch in an automatic defensive instinct -. “It just needed a minute to settle in” She told him looking at her ankle. 

“You should try to stay still for the next few days.”

For a brief moment, she had a clear vision of her future with Steve. She could see herself surrounded by his discreet kindness, his dry laugh, his commitment to take care of her. Even his unpleasant bbossy character. 

And she wanted that. She wanted him desperately. Exactly as she had wanted him when she was seventeen.  
She suppressed a trembling sigh and slipped out of the protection of his arm.  
“I'm going to take a shower. You can use the shower in Clint's old room, if you want.”  
She shuffled to the hallway, hiding her face behind her hair as much as she could, so he was unable to watch her expression. 

A few years back, her grandfather had installed a new water heater for the house, so the water was warm almost instantly as she opens the shower. She didn’t start crying until she got down the shower.

While she was rubbing Steve out of her body, she sobbed so quietly. How could she? It was exactly as it had been before. A night full of passion, intimacy, even laughter, followed by Steve being so silent and considerate how right it has felt in the moment.

The day after her first time with him she had been static. She hadn’t been  
able to stop laughing and hugging herself. She had dreamed a lot of silly dreams about a wedding, a family, a life with Steve.

She hadn’t even suspected for a second that he would never call her again,  
that when she went home, nervous and bewildered, after two days without  
contact him, despite several attempts to call him or write him, he would not open the door. That when she found him at her grandfather's business a few days after leaving Clint there, Steve would act as if he had never met her.

Her heart would not bear it again.

At least she didn’t live in this town anymore. She wouldn’t have to see him anywhere, listen his name every day. She could escape back to her small apartment and to an anonymous city that doesn’t know her, that wouldn’t break her heart.

She had managed to control herself by the time she dried her hair and dressed in jeans and a soft coat. All she had to do was bear an hour or more until Steve left, and she would be fine. She went down the stairs and saw him outside, pulling his truck out of the ditch. Probably had sprayed salt on the ice so the car wouldn’t slip with the ice while he took it out.

She watched him return to the house through the window, leaving his car at the end of the road entry. He must have showered before putting on the clothes he had worn the previous day. He looked strong, wrinkled and handsome, he still needed to shave. 

She heard him enter through the side door and a creak in the little room, probably taking off his coat. She didn’t move from her position through the panoramic window. She couldn’t move.

She felt him enter the room, but she didn’t turn around. She felt his arms around her, the heat of his body pressed against hers.  
"Hey." he said.

It felt so good, his voice sounded warm, deep, exactly as she wanted to hear. Exactly how it sounded when he had fucked her eight years ago and then  
Abandoned her.

"So," he continued slowly, tilting his head as if trying to see her face-. “Last night was really good.”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded weak. No more than a whisper. She was shaking inside unable to contain herself, but her body was frozen.

When she was twelve, she had insisted on going on a mountain excursion with Clint and Steve. She had tripped and had to hold her self to avoid falling and damaging a shoulder ligament in the process. She hadn’t told them until they got home, making herself suffer an agonizing pain during the remaining hour of hiking. She had refused to admit that she wasn’t as capable as the boys. She had spent her whole life making others believe that she was not weak or stupid. She could be in love now, but just like the last time, she wouldn’t let anyone to know, at least she would cling to her pride.

She forced herself to smile and turned around. Steve's eyes were so deep and full. They seemed to offer you a lot.

 

All.

 

As they seemed eight years ago.

 

Before he could say anything, she stretched and gave him a light kiss on the side of his mouth.

“It was great. We are really very good in bed together.”

“I agree.” He tried to deepen the kiss.

She walked away, holding her smile, which was one of the most difficult things she has never done.  
“But don’t pretend that it means more than just one night.”  
He tried to reach for her again, but her words stopped him. 

 

He froze.

 

“What do you mean?”  
There was something strange about his expression, but she was trying so hard to keep her casual posture that she couldn’t really notice.

“Well, it was fun. But none of us thought that it was serious, so there's no reason to go through the proposals.”  
He still had not moved.

“Nat? I thought…”  
She managed to give him some convincing smile, scared of that he knew, that he really knew, that she was totally crazy about him.  
“This time was much better than the previous one. Maybe in another eight years we can do it again. But I'm very happy with my life, so you shouldn’t worry about me hanging around for you.” She pretended that the last sentence was a joke and thought she had done a decent job with the amount of humor. But Steve didn’t laugh. He didn’t say anything. Natasha's eyes were burning. She had to finish this conversation, take him out of the house soon. She turned to look out the window.

“How does the road look?”  
He didn’t answer so she looked over her shoulder.  
“How does the road look?” She repeated. Her voice sounded strange in her ears, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.  
"Good," he finally said. “It’s clear now.”  
“All right. You are welcome to leave then, whenever you want. You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to be stuck in here because of me.” She felt her voice broke with the last word so she covered it with a cough.  
“I'll stay until Clint and your mom arrive.”

She limped to the couch and began to pick up the blanket and sheets so that she could throw them in the washing machine, she still clung to her false smile.

“It’s not necessary. I'm a big girl, remember?” Self-sufficient  
The reference to their conversation the night before was a torture, since it felt so close to Steve. It felt so real. But she said it anyway, like a kind of self-punishment. She had been the only stupid one, so now she had to pay the price.

“Very well. If you are sure.” His voice was a little hoarse, but she barely noticed, she was very concentrated holding back the sobs that clenched her throat.  
"I'm sure," she managed to say. “I'm sure I'll see you around. I hope that you have a Merry Christmas.”

He didn’t answer, but she told herself that she had fulfilled her duty. She took the stack of sheets and blankets and took them to the laundry. She had to get away from him. Now.

She was in the laundry room when she heard him enter the kitchen.

"Have a merry Christmas, too," he said, his voice a little cramped as he was  
walking while talking. “Take care.”

Then he left, but she waited until he reached his truck and disappeared towards the road before collapsing on the couch.

She felt an ache in her heart, remembering what they had done in the couch the night before. She stood up from there, looking at it.

Instead she sat in the armchair and cried.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Fifteen minutes later her phone rang. It was on the coffee table, so she had to get up to reach it.

She checked the caller ID and saw that it was her brother. She cleared her throat  
before answering

“Hi Clint.”  
“What the hell did you do?” He demanded, without greeting or warning.  
“What?”  
“What the hell did you do to Steve?”  
“What are you talking about?” She had thought that she had finished crying for the moment, but her mind was still not working clearly. She blinked in confusion with the totally irrational question and her angry tone.  
“What the hell happened to Steve last night? I just talked with him.”  
Her heart had been beating hard, and it seemed to be in the middle of her  
throat.  
“What did he say?”  
“He didn’t say anything to me. Not one thing. Only that he had already left the house.”  
“So, why are you asking ...?”  
“Something happened. You did something to him. He sounded ... he sounded broken.”  
The familiar impatience with the unreasonable behavior of his brother shocked her  
with absolute confusion.  
“I didn’t do anything to him, and I don’t appreciate your...”  
“I don’t give a damn what you appreciate. How could you do that to him? Is it some kind of revenge? Use him and throw him away? I didn’t think you would be so heartless”  
She almost drowned. Nothing that his brother said made sense.  
“Heartless? Me? Are you saying…”  
“I'm saying that Steve doesn’t deserve this. I don’t care what you think of him. He is the best person in the world. And I've had to see him thinking about you for years. For years. He has never been able to get over you.”

She listened to the words and thought she understood their meaning. But there wasn’t any logic there. She fell on the couch since her knees weren’t holding her anymore.

“I don’t understand ...” she tried to answer.  
"It's painful," he continued, sounding indignant and angry as never before.  
“I had listened. It is more than painful, watch him attentive to any detail that  
someone says about you. Watch him change conversations to find out how are you doing. Is painful, knowing that you don’t even give him the time of the day.”

She made a choked sound.  
“And now you go and sleep with him or something, and he will never be able to forget it. He doesn’t deserve this. I can’t believe you went and ...”  
“Stop!” She broke inside, half sobbing, half screaming at him. “Just Stop, none of this makes any sense. I didn’t do anything to him, not now or not year ago. He left me. I loved him, and he threw me out.”

Her almost hysterical response seemed to end Clint's attack like a needle makes a balloon burst. He let out the air strongly.

 

"He didn’t," Clint said, sounding more tired than angry now. “He really didn’t. Just that you never knew what happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! sorry guys that it took me so long to update, I've had a rough months with school and everything! i really hope you guys like this chapter and it would make me really happy if you left a comment of what you think about it!  
> once angain, english is not my first language so i'm really sorry for any mistakes!!  
> thanks so much for the all the love and support!!!


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